Aurelius
by Lalaith Quetzalli
Summary: (One-Shot) Mycroft had a plan to save his brother, he only needed the parliament to agree... what he never expected was for an unknown to appear in the middle of the session, to speak in defense of his brother! A woman from the most powerful house in Britain, the House of Aurelius... (Begins during imprisonment and sentencing) HLV Fix-It - Slash - Vague Crossover with BtVS and AtS


I don't own Sherlock... or BtVS or AtS for that matter. I don't even think I own the idea of mixing these worlds up, though in this case it was to a much later degree (no Holmes vampires, promise).

You don't need to have watched anything from either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. It would certainly help, but isn't necessary. I call it a vague crossover because none of the characters ever actually appear; the names and history of some of them is mentioned, some parts of it intentionally muddled (isn't that what always happens with history) I twist events also for my own aftermath of the finale of both series and no comics are included. (You can always see the whole thing as a sort of urban legend, if you prefer, it's not that important, except to somewhat justify the power some people will have).

Yet again, lots and lots of thanks to Ariana DeVere for her transcripts.

I have no beta, and am not British, please forgive any mistakes.

* * *

 **Aurelius**

" _I occupy a minor position in the British government." MH_

" _He is the British government..." SH_

It was early morning, and already Mycroft felt extremely tired, though that was probably on account of the fact that he hadn't slept the previous night; he'd hardly slept at all in the last week in fact, ever since his little brother had shot Charles Augustus Magnussen, the media tycoon (and unknown to most, a blackmailer) in front of nearly a dozen policemen and several MI5 agents, as well as Mycroft himself. He'd spent the last seven days working on a plan to save his brother. He didn't care how much Sherlock insisted he hated Mycroft's meddling, his over-protectiveness, Mycroft was still the big brother and would do everything in his hands to keep his brother safe, anything. Of course, for the plan to work out, especially the kind of plan he had to put in practice and considering the kind of individuals he would have to get it past, he had to pretend not to care, at all. It wasn't easy, especially with John Watson harassing him at every turn. He wanted nothing more than to tell John he was working on it, that he would look after Sherlock, keep him safe, in a way he failed to do during the whole Moriarty debacle... but his communications were being monitored, always, he couldn't risk his plans being discovered. So he didn't say anything, and just hoped the results would speak for themselves.

That was how the eldest Holmes came to be standing at the glass wall of a large meeting room; the same where a parliamentary commission was held months before, concerning the suspicious interactions between the Prime Minister and Charles Magnussen. It was (arguably) that event which had started everything. The politician kept his back to the room, eyes fixed outside, as he focused on keeping an emotionless mask in place. He had already explained the basics of what he believed ought to happen with Sherlock Holmes, all he was waiting was for the members of Parliament to decide whether they would support his idea.

He knew there would be those eager to agree. Not everyone liked Sherlock, despite the good he did and kept doing (or perhaps because the 'good' hadn't been in benefit of them). Proposing a suicide mission might seem preposterous to some, but there were those who would jump at the opportunity (it was probably also a good chance to pick on those who might be too eager to get rid of his little brother).

"As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt instrument." The eldest Holmes continued with his prepared speech. "Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger, a scalpel wielded with precision and without remorse." He looked discretely at the others in the room. "There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes."

The men sitting at the table just looked back at him in silence; though it was the one who'd approached him, Sir Edwin, who spoke.

"If this is some expression of familial sentiment..." He began in a low tone.

"Don't be absurd." Mycroft scoffed. "I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion. You know what happened to the other one."

Sir Edwin looked away, grimacing, apparently knowing exactly what Mycroft spoke of, though most of the others did not.

"In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without causing a riot on a daily basis." The Holmes politician continued. "The alternative, however..." he turned to look at Lady Smallwood. "would require your approval."

She was his best chance at his plan (or at least the first phase of it) working, just like Sir Edwin was the greatest risk. If the man were ever to realize that being left in prison would be a worse punishment for Sherlock than even a suicide mission (though Mycroft wasn't going to let it go that far either way), he would be all for keeping Sherlock where he was. There was no way Mycroft would ever allow that, he would first arrange for a break-out himself!

"Hardly merciful, Mr Holmes." Lady Smallwood stated in a tone that made it obvious she knew there was something Mycroft wasn't saying, and she wanted to know what it was.

"Regrettably, Lady Smallwood, my brother is a murderer." Mycroft said stoically.

He didn't like manipulating the woman, Lady Smallwood was a good, capable individual, but Mycroft just couldn't risk explaining what he was doing. It was too dangerous.

And then something happened which he wasn't expecting, which no one present could have ever expected. A woman stepped into the room, mid-forties or so, her hair was obviously natural blonde, though it appeared to have been bleached to a lighter tone, combed in such a way her loose shoulder-length curls framed her face in a way that favored her (made her almost look younger), her eyes brown with a hint of hazel in them; she was wearing a smoke gray coat with a damascus design in dark yellow thread, over a knee-lenght black dress with a square neckline and a thin pale gray belt, black pumps on her feet.

The men at the table could only look at her in shock, while Elisabeth Smallwood and Mycroft Holmes looked at her attentively, wondering who she might be. Sir Edwin wasn't quite as polite.

"Miss." He said in a most authoritative (almost scathing) tone. "I know not who you are, but this is a private meeting of Parliament and you cannot be here."

"I know exactly what this is." She retorted in a tone several degrees colder than his, while still remaining perfectly polite. "And I'm exactly where I am supposed to be. I am Harriet, Lady Regent of House Aurelius."

The tension that followed that declaration was such that Mycroft was confident he could have easily cut it with his blade (the one he kept cleverly hidden at all times in the handle of his trustworthy umbrella).

Mycroft was one among few in Britain who knew that matters of power weren't simple in their country. There was the Queen, the Prime Minister, and the House of Lords, to state a few. Certain Houses held power in the nation, and had for many a year. Most were old nobles, some of which could be trace back thousands of years (or so they claimed). Among them all, House Aurelius was a very particular case. They weren't aristocracy, had never been; yet it was said that less than a century before some of their members had done something that gained them such favor from the Queen they'd been granted a status similar to the oldest nobles. No member of the House had ever taken part in the Houses of Lords or such, though they'd supposedly given advice to the Queen or the Prime Minister sometimes. There were some who believed the House was on its way to becoming extinct, if it hadn't happened already... apparently they were wrong.

"Lady Aurelius?" Lady Smallwood asked, searchingly.

"The correct term is Lady Regent, my Lady Smallwood." The younger blonde told the older one in a much warmer tone. "My family serves House Aurelius as needed. Though, right now, the only reason I'm here is because our newly appointed Lord is currently busy."

"If this matter is of his interest, shouldn't he be here?" Edwin practically sneered.

"My Lord Aurelius has just taken possession of his birthright recently and the Queen insisted on speaking to him on the matter of the past Lord and Lady." The Lady Regent elaborated a bit. "It's why I was sent to take care of this matter."

Mycroft could tell, by her choice of words, there was a lot more she wasn't saying. She wasn't Lady Regent by choice... but it wasn't that she wanted to be the heir, more the opposite, she'd never wanted that kind of responsibility but had been forced to step up for some reason. And if the previous Lord and Lady were dead (and had been for a while), why had a new Lord only taken the position recently, was he very young, or had he just refused to step forward before? So many questions... It was an interesting puzzle certainly, but he had enough on his plate with Sherlock's situation already.

"How may we help you, Lady Regent?" One of the other lords finally inquired. "We're currently dealing with a delicate matter, but are almost finished already. I'm sure any of us would be honored to be of assistance to House Aurelius..."

"That's quite alright sir." The lady regent nodded at him. "I'm the one who's here to be of service. I'm here to speak on the behalf of Sherlock Holmes."

The tension just got worse. Even Mycroft couldn't help the way his eyes widened. The Aurelius had sent someone to speak on behalf of his brother?!

"Why would you speak on behalf of Sherlock Holmes?" Sir Edwin practically demanded. "What connection does he have to House Aurelius?"

"The particulars are none of your concern, Sir Edwin." The regent stated in an almost scathing tone. "All you need to know is that Sherlock Holmes has carried out a great service for House Aurelius, and it is the wish of my Lord that he be placed under our House's protection."

Which automatically meant that he wouldn't be persecuted for his murder of Magnussen; one of the most important benefits House Aurelius possessed was full diplomatic immunity, and they had the power to extend it to anyone they wished, as long as they had a good reason, one they could justify before the Queen (the one who granted them, or at least backed up the original decree that gave them such privilege).

"What could Sherlock Holmes possibly have done for House Aurelius?" Edwin insisted. "It would have been made public. And the paperwork to even place him under the protection of another House..."

Another... because Holmes was one too. Yet Mycroft just didn't have enough backing to be able to do what the other woman was doing, simply being regent of her own house.

"The paperwork is all filed and perfectly in order." The regent handed a file to Lady Smallwood, and a similar one to Mycroft. "I hope you won't mind that you weren't consulted on this matter, my lord Holmes. We were lead to believe that swiftness was of utmost importance."

"Of course, my Lady Regent." Mycroft bowed his head respectfully at her. "You have my gratitude for your prompt defense of my brother, as does the rest of your House. Though..."

"You too find it odd that Sherlock Holmes could have won the favor of my House and you not know it." She finished for him in a knowing tone. "You feel like he should have told you." She shook her head with a soft smile. "Your brother couldn't have shared what he himself did not know. As great as the service rendered has been, he's not aware of it. Not yet." Her smile grew a bit. "He'll know soon though."

Mycroft had a feeling there was something of an inside joke in those words, one only the lady regent understood. But he didn't mind, his little brother was safe, no matter what anyone else might try, no one would ever be able to convict him for the murder of Charles Magnussen (nor for anything he might have done in the past, with him under diplomatic immunity). Sherlock was safe, nothing else mattered after that.

 **xXx**

It took nearly an hour for all formalities to be finished, and then another hour and a half for Mycroft's PA to make the trip to Belmarsh Prison, get Sherlock out and back to the office. After that the consulting detective needed only to sign a few papers before everything was ready.

Back in Baker Street Sherlock took three showers before he felt he'd gotten rid of everything and anything he might have picked up in his week in prison. His mind was still working a mile a minute, trying to understand why exactly a House like the Aurelius had suddenly placed him under their protection. He'd already gone into his Mind Palace, reviewing the reports he made to himself after every case and he could find nothing that might be connected to them. There was, of course, the chance that he might have deleted it, but anything connected to that House couldn't possibly be so boring that he would delete it, right?

That line of thought, important as it might be, was pushed completely to the side the moment Sherlock emerged from the bathroom to the smell of newly brewed tea. Only to find none other than John Watson, sitting in his chair, drinking a cup himself (another was waiting for Sherlock on the table beside his own chair).

"John!" The detective couldn't help the near squeak that came out of his mouth. "Did Mycroft tell you I'd gotten out?"

"Not exactly..." The doctor began, shifting a bit.

His friend/partner would have asked about that, but then he noticed something more.

"Where's Mary?" Sherlock blurted out before he could think better of it.

And it wasn't just the absence of Mary herself, Sherlock had already noticed that John wasn't wearing his wedding ring anymore; at the same time, there was a chain around his neck that had not been there before, and even the way he held himself was... off.

"Mary's gone." John said, seemingly trying to make it seem unimportant. "Apparently she not only lied about things in her past, but also about her present. The baby she's carrying is not mine but David's. When I confronted her about it, she had the gall to say that since I was already being unfaithful to her..."

"What?!" The detective couldn't help the shock that colored his voice. "But you would never do that John. I know that. She should know that."

John just shrugged, almost helplessly. Sherlock was confident he was right, though that did not explain what had lead Mary to believe her husband would cheat on her, unless... it was until that very moment that Sherlock looked at John and truly saw, beneath the helplessness, the hints of sadness, the tiredness, so much emotion... all of it directed at Sherlock himself. The worst part was looking at his old friend and realizing that that underlying sentiment had been right there for a very long time, years even, and he'd never noticed it before... and to think he was the one always mocking others about seeing but not observing.

John looked away then, making to sip at his tea before pulling away with a huff, it had gone cold already, he'd never liked that.

"I'm gonna make some tea, this one's gone cold already." The doctor announced as he got on his feet. "Want to call for some takeaway, maybe Chinese, or Indian?"

Sherlock knew what his flatmate/best friend/more(?) was doing. He was giving Sherlock an out. They could move on, continue with their lives, John back in 221B, the two working together on cases, never acknowledging the feelings in both their hearts... because they were in both, and that was something Sherlock finally dared admit.

So with that in mind the detective got on his feet smoothly, taking the cup from John's hands and placing it on a nearby table, before cupping the smaller man's face in both hands and connecting their mouths in the most awaiting kiss ever.

No words needed to be said, not really, it was all written in their faces, and their lips.

 **xXx**

The next day there was a phone-call and a grey car stopped before 221B Baker Street to pick up John, Sherlock, Mycroft and Anthea (both of whom had been called there too). The real surprise though, came when they saw who was driving:

"Lady Regent..." Mycroft began in a formal tone.

"Hey Harry." John called almost at the same time.

That left the other three staring at them in shock.

"Harry?" Sherlock was the first to recover his voice. "You're Harry Watson."

"Correct." She smiled mischievously at them. "Lady Regent of House Aurelius is a title I'm forced to bear. The Watsons have served the Aurelius in some capacity or another for as long as the House has existed, even before they were considered a House as such."

"And your new Lord?" Mycroft inquired, brow arched.

"That's more or less why I'm here." The blonde woman shrugged. "Officially Sherlock is the only one now considered as part of House Aurelius, but since the two of you" She nodded at Mycroft and Anthea. "are his family, that makes you connected as well. Which means there are things you need to know. Now, will you get in?"

They all did. None of them asked where they were going, it was obvious enough. It took a couple of hours, but eventually they reached the area where the old estates could be found. The Aurelius estate was huge, with a four floor manor high on the hill. They arrived soon enough, entering through side door (as Harry claimed that the front door was too big and had been out of use so long there was just no point). They instead stepped into a hallway that lead on one side to the kitchen, and on the other to a dinning room and several sitting rooms of different sizes.

"Are we to meet Lord Aurelius now?" Mycroft wanted to know.

"Soon, soon." Harry practically sing-songed. "But first, how about a tour?"

They were lead down the hallway, until they eventually entered into what looked like a library, which occupied at least a fourth of the floor.

"This is actually the second level of the library." Harry announced. "The archives and such are on the basement level. The only other thing down there is the training area and the pool. This level includes basic books as well as art, though we'll get to that part in a moment. The third level has only specialized books, many of them in dead languages."

No one asked what was the point of keeping books in dead languages, though it was a close thing. In the end the thought was pushed aside when they entered the adjoined room, and suddenly found themselves surrounded by all kinds of paintings, drawings and photos. The first painting (and one of the biggest) seemed to be depicting what some religious individuals would probably imagine the apocalypse to be like... and yet beneath it there was a card that marked it as another thing entirely 'The Dawn of the World'.

"What...?" The Holmeses asked almost at the same time.

"The Dawn of the World?" Anthea asked properly.

"I know it doesn't fit what most would expect." Harry nodded. "No one could ever accuse the Aurelius of being exactly traditional. Though it's still important to the House, to everyone who belongs to it, regardless of how few we might be... Everything in this room tells a story. Not just of House Aurelius, but of many others who are in one way or another connected to the House, most who were lost long ago." She took a deep breath. "Now, I've never told the story before, and I know I'm not as good at it as the one who used to tell it, but here goes: Our world is older than any of you, any of us know and, contrary to popular mythology and religion, it did not begin as a paradise at all. For untold eons monsters, true demons, walked the Earth. They made it their home, their... their Hell. But in time they lost their purchase on this reality. The way was made for mortal animals, for mankind. All that remained of the old ones were vestiges, certain magicks, certain creatures, like vampires."

"Vampires?" Sherlock snorted, but did not say anything else.

"Vampires indeed." Harry nodded, getting into the rhythm of the story (she wasn't as much of storyteller as her brother, but still). "It is said that the last true demon bit a human before leaving our dimension, and the result was the first vampire. No longer human, body mutated, the older the vampire, the less human they looked. And most importantly, they had no souls. The soul, or spirit, the one thing that makes a human exactly that, having departed upon 'death', leaving a demon in its place. To use the body of the dead human as a shell. Most vampires could be killed in a variety of ways: stake to the heart, fire, decapitation; they could also be fought off with holy water, crosses, and other blessed items. The oldest the vampire, the harder it was to kill it."

Harry could see that the Holmeses didn't believe her, they were just being respectful enough not to say a thing, yet. So instead she moved, leading them to the next painting. One of a girl with dark skin and eyes, in tribal clothes, white paint on her face and an almost animalistic expression.

"Sineya?" Mycroft read, confused.

"Sineya, the First Slayer." Anne stated. "For as long as there have been vampires, there's been the Slayer. Into each generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. To stop the spread of their evil..."

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Sherlock finally interrupted. "What's the point of all this nonsense? Why are we even here?"

"What does any of this have to do with the Aurelius?" Mycroft asked, a bit more polite.

"It has everything to do with House Aurelius, I will get to that soon enough." The blonde stated. "And since it has to do with our House, it has to do with you too."

The next piece on the wall wasn't exactly a painting, more like a drawing, done on very old parchment, so much it looked like it was almost falling appart.

"According to legend, a group of wise-men came together, when the vampires still threatened the safety of humans around the world." Anne continued the story. "They used their combined power to summon a demon, siphoning its power into a child, a girl in the cusp of womanhood. And through that sacrifice the first slayer was created. A girl with the physical strength, speed and endurance of the vampires, but with a human soul. The men called themselves Watchers, and sent the Slayer to where she was needed. Eventually she died, but the power wasn't lost, instead it went to the next girl who was compatible, she became the next Slayer. And so the line began."

"Why girls?" Mycroft asked, honestly curious.

"No idea." Anne answered honestly. "There might be an explanation in one of the books. I've always believed that it was simply because the men found women to be more disposable... I may be wrong." She shrugged. "But in the end it is what it is. Years passed, and the Watchers became a formal organization. They began taking girls across the world, those with the potential to one day be Slayers, would train them from infancy. Most Slayers lasted a year or so, before they died and another was called. And that's how it went for many a year..."

They kept walking, passing a number of paintings and drawings of girls from different historic periods and nationalities, the one thing they had in common was that they were always depicted carrying some kind of weapon, mostly blades or stakes. Until eventually they reached a painting that was different from any of the others. It showed a blonde girl, with hazel eyes, about fifteen years old or so, in a formal white dress and a black leather jacket.

"Things changed one day, in a way no one could have expected." Anne continued. "A girl was Called, and unlike all the others before her, she hadn't been found by the Watcher's Council before her Calling. She didn't grow up being trained as a Potential. And more importantly: she had friends and a family..."

"Why's that so important?" Anthea inquired.

"The Council took the girls from their families." The blonde clarified. "They were raised to be warriors. Those girls lived alone, fought alone... and they died alone...Until she came. She had a family and friends, she had a life aside of her Calling, and she refused to give it up. That changed everything. There were risks of course, to her, her family and the humans who chose to help her, but at the same time it allowed her, allowed them, to surpass so many challenges that would have been insurmountable otherwise. She was the longest lived Slayer in history."

They passed a considerable number of pictures showing the same blonde girl with others, through the years. And while in some they would be armed, there were pictures that had the teenagers just laughing, being happy. And eventually they reached another painting. Of the same blonde Slayer, in a wedding dress, by her side a tall man with chocolate hair and amber eyes in a tuxedo.

"What about him?" Sherlock signaled one man who hadn't been mentioned before.

"Angel..." Harry smiled. "No one knows for sure who he was or where he came from exactly. There are some who say he was a vampire, cursed to have a soul, and who set to doing good to lessen the guilt brought to him by the demon inside. Others say he was a human without a path until he decided to fight. What's known for sure is that he was a Champion, the greatest help the Slayer ever had. The love of her life... They married eight years after her Calling, she was twenty-three and had already lived three years more than any other before her."

They walked again, eventually reaching another painting. One that showed at least two dozen girls, standing together, heavily armed, at the entrance of what looked like a creepiest cave ever, full of monsters. The tag read: 'Battle of the Hellmouth'.

"Now, this part of the story is a bit tricky." Harry continued. "Some say that seven years after she was Called, this Slayer and her witch friend did something that caused all Potentials to become Slayers. It also said they did that to fight the First Evil, the greatest threat of all times. Whose minions had already bombed the Council's HQs in downtown London and killed dozens of Potentials and their Watchers across the globe. It was the only way to stop them... What no one expected was when, the day after the battle, all girls returned to being only Potentials. And here's where versions differ. Some claim no more Slayers were called after that, with only the 'Queen', as the blonde was called, holding the title until the day of her death. Others state that there were more Slayers called, though since there were no threats as the ones already defeated, there was very little recorded about them."

Not a word was said as Harry finished her story. Both Watsons could see the Holmeses weren't really believing it, and that was probably to-be-expected, still.

"Now, regarding House Aurelius." The Lady Regent continued. "That was Angel's family name, or at least the one he used. He and his wife were the ones to report to the Queen after the defeat of the First Evil, to assure her that the one responsible for the bombing in London, and many killings around the world had been found and killed. The Council had included members of many noble families, and it is said that one of the Potentials had been distant family of her, so it was of personal interest to Her Majesty. It was then that the status of House Aurelius was granted."

The Queen's personal interest also explained the exceptional privileges they'd been given.

"None of that explains how the Watsons are connected to any of this." Mycroft stated.

"The Watsons served the Watcher's Council for a great many generations." Harry explained. "And then there's the fact that Dawn Marie Summers, the little sister of the Slayer Queen was my paternal grandmother."

Anthea was nodding, and yet it was Mycroft who noticed a certain detail.

"You said Dawn Summers was your grandmother..." The elder Holmes said, contemplative. "What about John?"

The former army captain let out a breath, he'd known that moment was coming.

"I wasn't born a Watson." John admitted quietly. "I was raised by them after my parent's sudden death when I was little. I have next to no memories of them..." even as he said that, his eyes couldn't help but stray to one particular painting. "I've always considered William and Stephanie Watson as my parents; however, my birth name is John Rupert Aurelius."

There it was, he'd said it. He was an Aurelius. And not only that, he was the new Lord Aurelius.

"Why is none of that in your files?" Mycroft wanted to know.

"My own safety." John answered simply. "My birth parents made arrangements before their accident, and they were respected. However, there was too much risk that someone else might try to get into the family using me. So my survival was kept a secret..."

"You were supposed to be with them when they had the accident..." Anthea realized.

"Yes." John nodded stoically. "Aside from the Watsons only the Queen and her most trusted confidant knew that there was still an Aurelius." He let out a breath. "To be completely honest with you all, I never intended to claim my birthright. I was perfectly happy being John Watson, former army captain, doctor, and every-so-often Sherlock Holmes's backup and blogger..."

"Why did you do it then?" Sherlock asked, looking straight at him.

"Isn't it obvious?" John looked straight into the detective's eyes, not bothering to hide anything.

It really was obvious, once Sherlock cared to see, once he stopped focusing on the fact his best friend (his partner... his everything) had kept something like that from him, had 'lied'... but hadn't Sherlock pretty much done the same, when he faked his death, years before? At least Sherlock never had to suffer that kind of loss. Even when he was gone, he always knew that John was home, was safe (that was the whole point to faking his death after all, wasn't it?). Even with Mary and everything that happened afterwards, as hard as it might have been... a part of Sherlock had always known (or at least wanted to believe) that John would never leave him.

He had been willing to give everything for John to be happy. Even see him marry that woman, and killing a man before so many people, knowing it was likely to end up in his own death, sooner or later... and in the end John had given up the 'normal life' he always claimed to want; he'd given up the wife, the baby (even if Mary's baby wasn't his, Sherlock was convinced John would have loved her), the house in the suburbs, the quiet life as an OP in a small practice... he'd given all that, and even gone as far as claiming his noble birthright, all to save Sherlock, again...

"That day at Parliament, you said House Aurelius was intervening to pay back for something Sherlock did for your House..." Mycroft said softly, looking right at Harry. "You still haven't explained what that was..."

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry parroted John's words with a wide smile.

Mycroft knew, of course he knew, but a part of him still wanted to hear it.

"Five years ago my brother, for I will always see him as that, was a shell of a man." Harry stated in a most heartfelt tone. "I was convinced that he had never truly returned from the war. Then he met Sherlock Holmes, and it was like he was turned upside down. Little by little I would see pieces of the old John emerge, along with a new John... it was unexpected but I was willing to take it, as he seemed happy." She sighed. "Then Sherlock jumped off that rooftop. I wanted to bring him back, if only to kill him again, for so utterly destroying my brother." She shook her head. "I never really liked Mary. When Sherlock came back... I could almost say I knew it before John said anything. It was in his every move, every line in his face, the very light in his eyes. I knew then it was only a matter of time. Of course I never really expected for certain things to happen, for John to ever take the mantle of Lord Aurelius, pretty much forcing me into taking my own place as his Regent. But that's alright. I think it was worth it."

Of course it was. And that was pretty much all Sherlock needed to hear (for of course he and John had heard everything). The detective crowded the doctor, much as he had the night before; except it was the smaller man who took the initiative, slipping a hand around his friend/partner/beloved's neck and pulling him down for an intense kiss. The second of many yet to come.

* * *

I know some things are pretty much left in the air, that's more or less on purpose. Mainly because going into any more detail would either have made this story kilo-metric, or would require the readers to actually have watched the series, and I'd promised not to do that. It'll be complicated enough when I get into the crossovers with the MCU (and yes, those are coming, more than one too).

Also, on that same line, I'd said there would be no more Gen in this series, I was wrong. There's at least one more piece like that (it happened by accident, pretty much). I'll mark it in the tags like the others.

As always, all comments and suggestions are welcome.

See ya!


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